


so, we're falling apart.

by gavinsaleks (ohmaggies)



Category: Sugar Pine 7 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Immortality, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, but probably not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:27:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14788793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmaggies/pseuds/gavinsaleks
Summary: He's heard all those tragic love stories, the ones where people don't realise they love someone until the person dies or gets married or moves away. The real kicker- the realisation that has Parker sitting in his car outside Cib's house- is that he's probably the only person who can say they didn't realise they were in love until they died. Or, until the person they loved killed them.Parker's not mad about it..extended canon-divergent version of the 'parker comes back to life and goes to cib's house to maybe kill him' with added pining. just because.





	so, we're falling apart.

 

> _What love did then, love does now:_  
>  _Gnaws me through._
> 
> \- Sylvia Plath
> 
>  .

 

Let's say he doesn't forgive Cib, stares instead at his own leg spread in front of him where he's sitting on Jeremy's couch and the way it shakes uncontrollably. It's night, it's dark, it's tiring; Jeremy flicks on a light and stares concerned at Parker and his shining eyes glued to his leg, and they don't talk about it but they should.

They don't talk about it because it's them, and Parker forgives Cib because he thought he hated him, he really did, but he finds himself gripping a pillow with both hands ready to take the life of the one that took his and…

He can't. Back to square one, back to wandering around aimlessly after dying trying to figure out how to live.  He's never quite believed in the afterlife apart from clinging to its intricacies- the appeal of the other side, of magic and fun, and comfort in something being there. When he wakes up in his body, bloodied in the middle of a green field in a place he's sure he's been before with Cib, he believes in it a little.

Mostly because he can't find a way to explain how he's alive. His hands press against the warm flesh of his warm-with-blood body, his head aches like it was split in half and then forced back together again, and he feels like he's aged a year.  He's wearing shoes, and his hair is long and slightly curled, and he thinks he would cry if he weren't so unbelievably numb and confused. It's part that, and part that he doesn't want to, like he thinks he's mad but really he's upset.

He's heard all those tragic love stories, the ones where people don't realise they love someone until the person dies or gets married or moves away. The real kicker- the realisation that has Parker sitting in his car outside Cib's house- is that he's probably the only person who can say they didn't realise they were in love until they died. Or, until the person they loved killed them.

Parker's not mad about it, can almost laugh about it all as his phone rings next to him and the screen brightens with Jeremy's name on it. He should answer it, he should, but instead he listens to the quiet of the dial tone and the birds encouraging the dawn, and Jeremy's deep voice concerned through the speaker.

“Parker, it's me. Where are you?” he says, words broken with static, and Parker smiles at the phone as his eyes burn. Either because Cib's just opened the passenger door and climbed in, or because it feels nice to be wanted by someone; Jeremy, his best friend or close to it, calling in to check on him without being asked. Maybe Parker should find some better friends, but he'd rather have these ones- no matter how awful their presence is sometimes, everything is worse without them.

“You should've done it,” Cib says, sure of himself, but Parker can see through the facade. He's trying to be understanding, in a way that Parker's never seen before so it might take him a while to get used to seeing it inked on Cib's features. “I deserve it, after what I did.”

“I thought I was mad,” Parker swallows, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “I'm not, anymore, I think. I'm not really sure, but I don't want to kill you. That's probably the opposite of what I want, I just thought standing there considering it might make me feel better.”

“Did it?” Cib asks, hesitance dripping from his tone.

“No.”

Parker's exhale is loud, and Cib's tired features and his hand running through his hair too telling. Maybe he should've- maybe most other people would do it, because Cib deserves it or because they're mad or because they might not get the chance again. Parker doesn't want the blood on his hands, the weight of that on his conscience, so he didn't do it, but another small voice reminds him it's more than that. He didn't do it for a lot of reasons, loving Cib despite dying at his hand is one of them.

Jeremy rings again and Cib eyes the phone, soft, wet eyes moving to meet Parker's slowly shifting gaze. There's something unbelievably vulnerable and open in Cib's eyes, pupils moving their gaze from Parker's face to his phone then to his eyes.

“I know I'm dreaming,” Cib says, and Parker swallows everything he wants to stay. “But… I’m so damn sorry I killed you, man. When I thought you wanted her, I wanted to go out of my damn mind. Do you have any idea how hard it was to sit back and try to pretend I was okay with it when I knew what you were thinking? About her, and-”

“I didn't want Sami Jo,” Parker, nervously licking his bottom lip out of habit.

“Okay, and you couldn't have told me that before you died? Before I killed you?”

Parker sits in the silence, hoping every thought he can't vocalise somehow telepathically finds its way to Cib. They've always been good at that, the silence communication and knowledge buried beneath misplaced dislike and tiredness that is Cib's and Cib's only. Pretending to hate Parker, bullying him, laughing and sneering at his misfortune, is an inside joke that Parker still doesn't quite understand. Maybe he deserves better friends, or maybe these ones are bad for him because he deserves it; either way, he can't imagine not going home to Jeremy and Andrew, to bending over backwards for Steve, to doing things he shouldn't just because Cib asked him to.

He's a little gone for all of them, but these feelings he harbours for Cib are very different to how he feels about Steve and the others. He likes them as friends, as people he can trust even with all their negatives and unkindness in mind. How he feels about Cib is like a wildfire, like sweat and warm skin and hot breath and wanting something that's real. Or, seems real, at least.

Right now, he wants Cib to realise he's alive and he's not dreaming, and that Parker isn’t going to make the first move, never will, so Cib should. If he wants to. If he can accept that this boy he killed is sitting next to him after considering killing him, and this is far from perfect but they always have been. Parker likes Cib because he's everything all at once and when he's himself, and when he's Cib with his ridiculous accent and rhymes, Parker would kill for him. Which, now is just a little ironic.

“I can't do this.”

“Then don't,” Parker breathes, wanting and needing and hoping. “Don't do anything, Cib.”

“Wait 'til I tell Steve I'm seeing ghosts,” Cib laughs, hollow and bitter, and rubbing his hands against his eyes. “He's going to tell me I'm insane, Parker. Seeing dead people. Dead ghosts. Dead Parker. Clayton's seeing Parker, who is dead, who he killed, who is sitting in a car in his driveway after trying to kill him.”

Parker's almost laughs, except Cib looks so wrecked and upset that he can't. Part of him assumed Cib would've moved on after it happened like nothing occurred, like they could bury the body and hide the truth and eventually all memories of killing his friend would go away. It doesn't, obviously, as the streetlights outside bounce light off the tears streaking Cib's cheek.

Awful as it is, he wants to know if Cib cried after killing him, too; if he realised Parker was dead and couldn't stop it if he tried. He'll ask Steve, one day, or Jeremy, or Cib himself if this goes well. Either that, or he'll realise he's better off not figuring it out and will never know.

“I loved you,” Parker says, smiles with a sad, shaky breath as though it makes it any better. “Not that it helps, but… yeah.”

“Not Sami Jo?”

Parker focuses on light rain falling on his windshield, answers quietly, “No. I thought I did, turns out I was wrong. I thought I wanted to be you, with her, but I think I wanted you.”

“I'm dreaming,” Cib reassures himself, and he looks expectantly at Parker who has his attention directed elsewhere. “You're _dead_ , dude. We killed you.”

Parker's breathing sounds too heavy in between Cib's words, fingers aching and clutched around the steering wheel.

“I can't tell Steve about this,” Cib notes, interrupting himself, and slides down in the passenger seat. “He'll ask what you said, what we spoke about, what you… what you said. And I'll say you tried to kill me then told me you loved me, and he'll lock me up for good. For good, dude. Like, freakin’- Cib killed his friend then went crazy over it. _Crazy_.”

“Go sleep, Cib,” Parker sighs, feels his heart speed up in his chest cavity.

Cib nods, his hair thick and soft looking, and his hands balled anxiously into fists at his side. Parker wonders what would happen if he told him he's alive, really, and he means what he's saying, and he did love him in ways he can't decipher but that somehow make sense. He wishes, more than that, that he had realised before he'd died how much he liked Cib, so he could be let down but alive.

He remembers everything, like punches and his own desperate pleas amongst the lack of a struggle and the liquor he could smell as he tried to get away. It's upsetting, knots at his insides with the unpleasantness of it, but he looks at Cib and can't hate him. Parker's not the type for that; he got murdered by someone he once called a best friend, but he's always been too forgiving and kind for his own good.

“Next time, kill me.”

“Sure thing,” Parker says, and his breath lumps in his throat as he fakes a smile.

He won't, but if it gives Cib peace of mind, he'll say anything.

**Author's Note:**

> i rewatched akrasia the other day and had A Lot of feelings about it so naturally this happened. i love the supernatural side of sp7 with parker's resurrection and wanted to kind of lend that combined with cib not knowing he's alive to this. i hope you like it and thank you for reading  ♡.
> 
>  
> 
> feel free to yell at me about parcib here if u want: [tumblr](http://gavinsaleks.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> \- rachel.


End file.
